Different Perspectives #3 - Shoes

[Cammeh]

They come in all different shapes and sizes, some are bought for specific uses, they are often loved and hated equally, and we often own more than we need.

We put our shoes through lots of use and abuse, but do we ever think about how the shoes feel? For this challenge, you need to write from the vantage point of a pair of shoes. Bonus internet points the more inventive your situation! What do things look like from all the way down there?​

 

[Thomas McTavish]

Day to day

Diary of an American Shoe.


Day 1
I have finally been purchased! Free from that cursed box in that freezing building at last! I have a home! My new owner seems nice. She is most definitely a professional, as she was well dressed. I overheard from her talk that she is what humans call a 'Daddy's little girl'. I have yet to discover what this title means, but I'm sure it is of little importance. My twin brother and I are very glad, but he is a moron and often glad. We currently remain in our box, but I am sure she will grant us our freedom of it soon.

Day 2
Today was wonderful! Our new owner took us out of the box, and wore us all day today! I am quite tired from all the walking she did during her 'shopping' enterprises, but I am certain she is pleased with our performance. We have also learned our owner's name is Jessie. Jessie has many nice friends, who complimented how cute we look all afternoon. I am tired, and may not have as much time to update this, from what I heard from Jessie.

Day 5
The world is a wonderful place to looks at. Grass towering just above my eyes, hundreds of other shoes being worn by their masters, dangerous, smelly obstacles at every turn! Such thrill! I don't like Jessie's canine companion, however. It is loud and keeps eyeing me hungrily. I doubt Jessie will let it harm me, though. She is quite fond of us. Also, I saw up her skirt today. I do not understand what all the fuss the human males make about it is. I will ignore it, as it is obviously not relevant to me.

Day 7
The first week has gone well, and Jessie treats us kindly, freaking out every time we get dirty and cleans us vigorously. We have a happy life with her, thus far. OF all the people who could have purchased us, I am glad it was Jessie.

Day 16
We are being worn more and more often, every day now. We are exhausted. But, we are still in high hopes. My brother keeps coming undone, hopefully Jessie will notice and fix his problem. I am tired. Will write again as I can.

Day 38
The conditions are becoming brutal now, with very little rest in between each day of continuous use. My brother and I were not made for this sort of heavy use. We're made for fashion, not constant labor! Doesn't she realize we have soles, too? We have tongues, why cannot we voice our troubles? We are wearing thin. We must see a cobbler soon!

Day 126
Despair. We are running out of use now. I lost one of my gems today, and my brother has a hole in him. The color is fading from both of us fast. I'm not sure how much longer Jessie will keep us around. She has transferred us to her closet now, a place filled with old shoes like us. It is dark, and cramped, and she only opens the door a few moments each day. Our only chance now is to hope she does not remember us, and throw us into the garbage. I have heard tales of the others, about old, worn shoes like us being whisked away towards the place called 'trash' and never heard from again. A terrifying thought. Even my usually happy brother was down today. I fear this is the end of us.

Day 143- Final entry
It happened. The horrid tales of the trash has happened to us. We now sit is a large bin, under layers of rotting food and their containers. I am filled with some type of oriental noodles. Disgusting. It seems this is the end. From what I heard, our next fate will be to rot in a Garbage Dump, along with many other discarded items, and then incinerated if fortune prevails. My brother has already passed on, no longer able to fight. I have had a good life, though, and served my purpose well.. Alas, this is where it ends. Goodbye, cruel world. Perhaps we will meet again in another life.

 

[Lady Sabine]

The factory is a womb, and I just one ovum among many. We are one, my sisters and I. All in the same length of material, not so much side by side as tangled within each other.

snick
my mother is the die-cutter. With a twist of her metal-bladed hands I am freed from my sisters, solo for the first time, going down the line at an unstoppable pace behind thousands of my kin.

thwip
my father is the sewing machine
thwip
he pokes me, pierces me
thwip
he makes me whole
thwip
his touch is cold like death, but brings to me more life
thwip


I am whole, made of my father and my mother, identical to my sisters around me, yet unique. I have a soul.
thrum
there is a conveyor belt
thrum
it plays the role of midwife
thrum
I do not wish to go
thrum
I do not wish to leave
thrum
the world beyond my womb is frightening
thrum
I am born into a box, into an egg, waiting to hatch, waiting to fledge.

Here in this box, I am whole.
Eyeless, I cannot see.
Earless, I cannot hear.
Noseless, I cannot smell.
I am tongued, but I cannot taste.
I have no heart, but I have a mind.
I have no mouth but I must speak.

My birth certificate is a receipt
whirr, the machine says
welcome to life

Later that same day I fell in love with the majesty of motion.

I can fly, but only for a few footlengths at a time.
I am a shield, a protector, a supporter, a loyal confidant
I am invaluable

The foot is my purpose, my god
who would have known so many things existed, were it not for feet?
They take me, they take us, everywhere.
The cool whispers of freshly mowed grass
The slap of running on pavement
The creak of old wood floors
The stickiness of spilled soda on restaurant floors

The foot is my god, and my god plays Eros
he jokes about golden arrows as he summons a sock
and thrusts it into me, rudely sometimes,
sometimes gently.
I am the lover of a dozen, a hundred, a thousand socks
I love them all, even though they care not for me.

I love the foot, but the foot had gotten big
I was filled, now I am stretched
I had never realized my god was so young
I had never heard of growth

The socks, they know
they have seen others like me come and go.
They do not love me because they know my time is short
they are my lovers, but I love them not
because they have told me an awful lie.

Feet, they say, are everywhere.
My foot is not unique.
My foot is not special.
My foot is just one foot on just one boy, just one of many billion.
I do not know most of those words
I do not understand most of those concepts
but i know them to be lies.
My foot is my god
Of course my foot is unique
Of course my foot is best.

I am in a box
Not a womb, but a coffin
my god had abandoned me and buried me.
I have no tears but I must cry.

My box is open
I am beside others like me
but unlike me
It is a store, they say
a store for the nonreligious
looking for a new deity
to take them home

My old lovers never lied
and now I wish I had loved them
for my world is complete
with a new foot, a new god,
better than before
for he is done with that terrible thing
sometimes called growing
and I am my foot's
and he is mine

Through parks and stores and offices
Through gravel, dirt, and mud
Through rain and snow and sand
Until I am an old soul
and an old sole
and ready to say goodbye
to the worship of feet
and ascend to the heavens
in the trash can
in the dumpster
in the truck
in a hole
in the ground
where I may sleep.